I woke up. I’m not a fan of waking up. I like dreams better even if bitter. It was a sunny day. Not summer yet, neither cold nor hot. Perfect -as it could be- that even weather wouldn’t be a subject. I can see the sun between the branches lying on a tree swinging. My grandfather with his huge belly is sitting on the grass across my mother. She is not thin but not fat, chubby, perhaps, blond with short hair. Both are trying to agree on what to cook first on the barbeque. Mom is a pro she knows how to put the fire on in a few minutes. It is an Oak. One can park a few cars under it. It is an ancient tree. It should have been there for thousands of years. Swinging around I had a lucid dream of a king sleeping under the Oak before crossing the canal to Cordoba. Next day the Parrots woke me up shouting and swearing. The King is coming. The King is coming. I ran to the door. The Parrots were swearing in Turkish. 'Siktir git! Siktir git!' I went outside. My mom was talking. A car had parked under the house with two young men and a soldier. Mom was laughing. ‘Go get some old newspapers from the library’ she said to me and I will get some water in a bottle! I looked for a few seconds to who was there; a young blond boy with another one I don’t remember and a soldier with a funny hat. We got them what they needed then they left. Mom said he is a prince and they are playing a joke with the neighbors. The castle was on the top of the hill above the Oak. Who would know he would be the king.
